How To Face Your MainCharacters
by liar
Summary: Have you ever written fanfiction? Have you ever had problems with your main-characters? Well...here's my story. A must read for everyone who has ever written fanfiction themselves!
1. How To Face Your Main Characters

**Disclaimer**: 

If I had the copyright,

I needn't write by candlelight,

Wouldn't live of bread and water, 

Could pay allowances for a daughter. 

But as I don't have a child,

Bear with me and please be mild,

Don't try to sue me for my money,

'cause I don't think that would be funny.

I never said that I owned Harry,

Nor any other thing or fairy

Mentioned in the Rowling's books,

So please be kind: let me off the hooks. 

***

**Writing FanFiction**

**or **

**How To Face Your Main Characters**

***

*peep* 

The notebook is on. I open MS Word. There it is: a new blank document.

"Honestly, I can't believe you're going to make _him _the protagonist of the story," Draco says and shakes his head, while I'm skimming through my notes on the plot-outline. 

I haven't even started to type yet, but he can't keep his mouth shut. Annoying little prat. "And don't you dare make me kiss him again! I swear, one more fluffy romance fic with Malfoy as my partner and I quit," Hermione threatens and points her wand at me to show that she really means what she says.

I sigh and begin to write the obligatory disclaimer at the top of the page. 

Draco sneers. "My, you really _are_ creative. Maybe it wouldn't sound so dull if you'd use a poem. Something like 'Don't own Harry Potter, the rotter.' or…"

Luckily he can't finish his excursion into poetry, because Ron throws one of the pillows lying on my bed straight at him and hits him square in the face. So much for the fantastic reflexes some seekers posses. I suppress a satisfied smirk, but chuckle a little. Serves him right for criticising me. Well, perhaps I really should think of something to make those nasty little copy-right things more interesting, but not today.

I finish the standard disclaimer and the usual 'Don't own anything, don't sue me, it's all J.K. Rowling's' smiles back at me from the screen.  Okay, now on with the story. I don't have a title yet, perhaps I can think of one later. Slowly and carefully I type the heading: 'Chapter 1', bolt print. Looks good.

"What about the title?" Hermione interrupts my precious train of thought. I was just about to think of the very first sentence and then it's her again. Patiently I sigh and ignore her completely. Now what was I going to write? Hm. 

"Don't you think it would be better to save the document before you actually start?" the bossy know-it-all voice cuts in. She probably won't stop getting on my nerves anyway, but it is worth a try. And, after all, she has a point, hasn't she? Obediently I press the save-button. All right. 

In the meantime, Draco has recovered from Ron's cushion assault and is standing right behind me, curiously eying the screen. He's making me nervous. He always does that and I can't stand it when someone watches me writing my stories, it gives me goose-bumps. 

"Let me wear leather-pants. You know I look gorgeous in them," he suggest eagerly.  

"Hey, I thought this time you'd let me have the part of the hot-looking guy!" Harry's voice fills the room and I don't have to look at the two to know that Draco sends him one of his trade-mark glares. 

"Can I have leather-pants, too?" Ron interjects.

I don't even have the very first sentence and they already start arguing with me about the minor details. Breathe. Let's take it slow. First of all, I need the introduction. Something that intrigues the reader's interest and that makes him crave for more. I want my readers to be addicted to every single word I post. One of my professors at university told me that sometimes it takes an author years to think of a good introductory sentence. Nervously I run my fingers through my hair. I'll simply start and re-write it later, if it sucks. I flex my fingers then begin to type and nearly manage to get half-way through the very first paragraph before all hell breaks loose behind me. 

"No way! I won't let Malfoy hex me with that curse! I simply refuse, you can't do that," Ron yells and tiny drops of spit hit my precious screen. I wrinkle my nose in disgust, but I don't have time (or the chance) to reply anything. Hermione is already busy pointing out some grave language and grammar errors and laments on my writing style. For heaven's sake, I'll spell check it later. Harry stopped interfering all together, because at the moment he is busy keeping a furious Ron from strangling Draco, who throws his normal range of insults at his two archenemies.  

I can take it no longer and decide that it is now time to intervene. 

"Stop it." I say it calmly. No one listens.

Breathe. Don't let them get to you.

"Stop it," I repeat, still calm, but more urgently. Harry struggles and it seems he can't hold Ron back any longer. Where is McGonagall when one needs her? Or Snape?

"Stop it!" This time I shout on the top of my lungs. Within a second there's silence. "I'm the bloody author of this story! You're the characters and you do as you're told! You do as _I_ tell you!" 

I'm fuming. Four pairs of eyes look at me with utmost disbelieve and almost instantly I regret my outburst. They glance at each other, Harry mutters something I cannot quite understand, Draco nods and the four of them retreat to my bed. Stubbornly they sit down, arms crossed in front of their chests and a firm expression set on their faces. 

"Now let's see if you can _make_ us do anything at all."

Great. I grown inwardly. Why is it always me? And I can't blame somebody else, because it's my own fault. Great. 

"Oh, come on. I didn't mean it. Honestly." I try to be persuasive and apologize, "I'm sorry, please." Maybe, if I coax a little more, I can win them over. You see, I'm a writer, but what is a writer without his characters? Not that I would ever admit that to Ron, Harry, Hermione and Draco. Well, might very well be that I won't have a choice but tell them something along those lines or they won't ever work with me again. Great. 

They are sitting on my bed, all lined up like little birds in a tree. If the situation wasn't so serious, I could have laughed. Again I beg and plead, I can see that Harry glimpses at me, so there is hope left. Ron's face is flushed, probably he is still sulking because of that hex in the story. Draco and Hermione don't look at me. I sigh heavily. Seems as if I can't avoid the inevitable, at least I had to try. 

"Okay. You can help me write the story, if you want to, " I declare defeated. 

Draco cocks an eyebrow. Hermione looks at me suspiciously. 

"Co-authors?" she asks. 

I nod and affirm, "Co-authors, all four of you. Deal?"

"Deal!" Hermione and Draco agree simultaneously.

Harry's cheeks are flushed and Ron has the widest grin on his face I have ever seen. I smile. Even Hermione and Draco's faces light up in anticipation. Perhaps the idea of letting the characters take part in the decision making process wasn't that bad at all. They are so eager to help me, Ron nearly trips over the wire of my notebook. 

"Okay, then let's get started." I sit down at my desk and look expectantly at them. Then, within a second, the four teens bombard me with ideas, questions, suggestions and wishes and expected me to write down everything they say the moment the words leave their lips.

"I want to wear leather-pants. No, wait forget about the leather-pants. I want to be captain of the Quidditch team."

"…and then I can see my Mum and Dad and they…"

"…books…"

"…all the girls will love me…"

"…and the Weasley will be a real weasel…"

"…broomstick…"

"Make Snape wear pink dress robes!"

"…library…"

I feel like I'm drowning in the flood of words and sentences. It is too much. I take another deep breath.

"Stop!" I have to yell again. "This doesn't work. One after another, not all of you at the same time, okay? Or else I can't even hear what I'm thinking." 

I don't know how we did, but only a few hours later the very first chapter of my, no, _our_ story is finished. It is gorgeous. Yawning I decide to send it to my beta-reader tomorrow. Outside it is already getting dark and my stomach grumbles. When was the last time I had something to eat? I smile a small smile, and then look at my bed. There they are, lying peacefully next to each other, Hermione even curled up on Draco's lap. No wonder they are exhausted. They did a wonderful job, even though I have to admit that I could have done without the constant bickering and fighting while we were discussing the plot. I press the save button one last time. Then close the document and MS Word. 

*peep*

I switch off the notebook and dim the lights in my room. I stretch and tired as I am, I snuggle down next to my four little friends. It's cosy and warm in my bed. Tomorrow, we'll tackle the next chapter. Together, the characters and me. 


	2. The Day The Minor Characters Took Over

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry pr any of the other characters that you might recognize from J.K. Rowling's books.

**

* * *

Author's Note:**

Well, actually this story was a really nice one-shot, and to be honest, I was brought down that so few people reviewed it, but I guess that is because hardly anyone read it. I also posted it on Fiction Alley and I got more reviews there than here…

Anyway.

Last night I had the idea to continue this story with one last chapter, so **enjoy** and **please, leave a review**!

**

* * *

The day the minor characters took over…**

* * *

"Get up!" she hisses, but I ignore her thoroughly and turn over pulling the blanket over my head. 

"Only five more minutes, Mom." I mumble barely audible because my voice is muffled by my duvet. It is so warm and cosy in my bed I never ever want to get up.

"Get up!"

This time, the order is given louder and something hard is poking me in the shoulder.

"Hey! Stop doing that!" I grumble and turn to face my mother and had I not been wrapped up so tightly in my duvet I probably would have fallen out of bed.

This is definitely not my mother.

"Well, about time you got up! We have been waiting for ages!" says Pansy.

Pansy Parkinson. It takes a moment or two for my mind to process the fact that that is Pansy Parkinson standing there in front of me. _Pansy Parkinson._

I still can't get it. All of us who believe in magic, fairies and wonders wish that one day we might get a sign that actually proves us right in our believes. Yet, when we get one of theses signs we most often wish we had never asked for it.

"What are you waiting for? Get out of bed, we've got a lot of work to do and we don't have all day!"

I gulp and carefully poke my head out from the covers entirely to take a good look at my surroundings.

There is not only Pansy staring down at me, but also Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Seamus Finnigan and about three other people that I can't name right now. My room is tiny and now it is so crowded that they are squashed against the furniture and one of the girls is even sitting on my desk, poking my laptop screen with her wand.

"What the…?" is all I manage to say.

"We, the so called "Minor Characters" have come to take our fate in our own hands." Pansy states and smiles at me.

I shiver.

Fruitcake. I'm absolutely fruitcake. Nuts. A lunatic. I must have gone mental while I was sleeping.

No, stop.

I still AM sleeping. That's it. I'm dreaming. This is just a really weird dream and I'll wake up tomorrow morning and everything will be fine, my mother will be rambling on about how messy my room is and that I really DO need to clean up a bit and…

"Come on! Move it, we don't have all day!" Pansy snaps at me and again pokes me with her wand.

Sighing, I decide to give in to this really strange dream for the moment and to get up. I'm still wearing yesterdays training trousers and the comfy pullover I had worn while I was spell checking the last chapter of my last Draco and Hermoine story. I sit up and swing my feet out of bed.

"So, Pansy, why exactly did you and the others come to bother me this early in the morning?" I ask boldly facing the intruders and smiling mockingly at the girl in front of me.

"You think this is a joke. A dream. But guess what, it's not!" she says, hands on her hips, the wand tip still pointing at me. She tilts her head and a small, vicious smile is playing on her lips.

"Vincent, Gregory, show him."

I curiously quirk an eyebrow as the two bulky boys move to the side so that I can see what is actually lying behind them.

What, or better WHO.

Hermione, Harry, Draco and Ron are all gagged and tied up and leaning against my wardrobe door as if they were neatly packed parcels waiting to be picked up by the postman.

Ron glares at Seamus and I can guess that the muffled noise coming from his mouth says traitor. Hermione and Harry both look alarmed and Draco, well, he seems to be even paler than he usually is.

You might think that I am a bit slow, but I still don't get the picture and my puzzled expression obviously gives me away.

"Draco and the others have kindly decided to keep us company, while you are writing a story in which we," and here Pansy waves a hand around the room at her cronies, "actually get the main part. For once we want to be the centre of attention and it will be us who decide what is going to happen."

"Well, yeah, fair enough," I say and shrug, "but what exactly does that have to do with me?"

"You are the one who is going to write the story." Her voice is calm and she speaks very slowly as if she was talking to a slightly retarded child. "You are the author."

I'm speechless. This is the worst dream I ever had. A nightmare. I probably need psychiatric counselling. I mean, I usually imagine that the characters are somehow coming to life while I am writing my stories and that they somehow act as my muses whispering little suggestions and hints in my ear as where to take the plot, but this here is ridiculous.

I shake my head and get of my bed, trying to push my way to the door so that I can go to the bathroom and have a shower.

"Where do you think you're going?" I hear her say and before I have even as much as reached my chest of drawers Finnigan and Goyle step into my way and I am trapped.

"Listen, Pansy-" I feel like such an idiot to actually talk to the products of my fantasies. Thank Merlin I am alone at home and no one can witness it.

"No, you are the one who listens. You either do what I say or you'll regret it."

"Oh, really?" I'm still smiling.

"Yeah, really, really. It's your choice. If you don't help us, then we'll finish them off for good. Your favourite characters will be toast and you will never ever be able to write stories about them. Maybe we should get rid of one of them right now so that you can see that we really mean it. " And to affirm her threat she points her wand at Hermione. The brunette squirms and her eyes widen with fear.

"You wouldn't do that," I say, but inside I know that she actually would. I can feel it. I have read so many stories with Pansy as a minor character in which she has done the most horrible things that it is not hard for me to believe her.

"Avada-"

I can't take it anymore and before she is able to evaporate my precious Hermione, I can hear myself scream "No, I'll do whatever you want! Just don't hurt them, please!"

"That's a good author." Pansy smirks and looking around I can see the satisfaction in their eyes. Perhaps, they are right, they have been neglected for too long. Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. You can't keep the minors in control if you don't give them enough attention.

With a sigh, I turn around and sit down in my chair. "Excuse me, do you mind?" I ask the girl sitting on my desk, I still can't remember her name. She moves away a little and starts scribbling things with my pen on my notebook. How annoying. I switch on my laptop.

Beep.

The computer boots.

"So what do you want me to write then?"

"We want you to write a story about us, of course."

"Yeah, I got that. But what kind of story? We need an idea, a plan…an outline. I can't just sit down and start typing. You have to tell me what you want to be in that story. Who is supposed to be your main character?"

"Well, we all are the main characters," says Pansy and the others agree with nods.

"No, you can't have half a dozen main-characters in a story. That's not a story any more, that's an epos and I certainly don't know how to write these. My name's not Homer."

At this they look a little taken aback. "We can't help it, guys, you need to sort this out and narrow it down to two or three main characters and the others will remain minor ones," I state and shrug.

Beep.

Pansy thinks about it for a moment. "Well, then me and Crabbe and Goyle can be the main-characters."

"Okay," I say and click on the desktop to start the programme.

"Wait a minute, Parkinson. That was not in the deal. Why should only you and your Slytherin cronies be the main characters? What about us?" Seamus intervenes and a few of the others seem to agree with him. "Yeah, that's not fair."

"Yes, it is. You haven't done anything to get us here anyway. It was all my doing, so it is my decision who is going to be a main character and who not," Pansy barks.

"Stupid Slytherin cow! We did just as much as you did!"

The tips of their wands begin to sparkle and I realize just in time that I might have started more than I intended to. I've got just enough time to dive under my desk and crouching down low I can hear them shout incantations.

Green screams fill the air in my room and for what seems to be an eternity but probably only lasted for seconds, it is so loud that I have to cover my ears with my hands.

Then, it is silent. Smoke hangs in the air and as I finally dare to come out from under my desk, I have to crawl over the debris of my belongings. Pansy and the others are gone. It looks as if a bomb has just exploded. I mean, my room has been a mess before, but this is beyond description.

Somewhere, someone is coughing. The muffled sound seems to come from only a few feet away from me, where there used to be my wardrobe. Carefully, I cross the room and when I clear away a few of my remaining clothes, I find them.

It is a miracle that nothing has happened to them. Surely, they are a bit dirty and have a few scratches here and there, but my four precious friends are still alive and sound.

Immediately, I untie Draco and together we free Hermione, Harry and Ron.

"Gosh, that was close," Ron sighs.

"Mhm, I really thought we were done for this time," Hermione agrees.

"Thanks a lot for getting us out of this mess." Harry shakes my hand and slaps me on the shoulder.

Draco nods. "Well done, for a Muggle."

"My pleasure." I smile. "I just didn't think that my room would look like this afterwards."

"Come on, we know that you didn't have a clue of how to solve our problem. You set them against each other by accident." It is Hermione who states the truth.

"Kind of, nevertheless, it worked and that's all that counts."

Hermione smiles and shakes her head. "Anyway, let see what we can do for your room." She gets her wand out and with an expertise flick and swish he says "Reparo."

In less than a second, my room is as neat and clean as it has never been before.

"Thank you."

"Oh, you're welcome."

Beep.

"What?" I sit up in bed at once. My alarm clock beeps and the neon green lights flash, gloomily illuminating the room. I am alone.

A dream. I have been dreaming. A nightmare. I let out a dry laugh. I knew I was only dreaming. Yawning, I get out of bed and make my way to the door to go to the bathroom and have a show. On my way out, I pick up my notebook to check what things have to be done today. Someone has scribbled on the front page. Great. I rip out the page and throw it in the bin. What day is today? Monday…


End file.
